Thursday, November 15, 2012

Today is my big brother's birthday!

This post is for him . . .

Jerry. My Hero. Age two.

I have two elder brothers, Jerry and George.

The banes of my existence when I was four.

This story is about Jerry. George gets his own.-------------------------------------------------------Jerry is my oldest brother. The one, chosen by the rest of us, most likely to be just like Dad. In my earliest memories of him, he is working. Hoeing the garden, mending fence, riding, milking cows. Always busy. Always cheerful.Always teasing.He could put just the right inflection on the most innocent of phrases and it was enough to send his middle sister into paroxysms of anger.

His favourite? “Oh, Diane!” Pronounced more like, “Oh, Di-Ane!”

With the buffer of many years, it doesn’t seem so bad. Rather cute, really. But at the time, it was enough to set me off like a miniature Mount Vesuvius.Okay, so that particular volcano runs in our family.

You should have seen George when Jerry used his favourite phrase on him! ‘Pimple pants’.Pimple pants?Now where would that have come from? And, more importantly, how does one get . . . never mind.But the old phrase, “If we hated you, we’d ignore you,” certainly applied to Jerry. He must have truly loved us. He’d take us everywhere. Riding. Sledding. Swimming. Exploring. You’d just have to be prepared to put up with the teasing.--------------------------------------------------------------

Jerry was the most amazing swimmer. He was the only one of us kids who could make headway against the current of the river. The rest of us were pretty proud when we could hold our own. That wasn’t good enough for Jerry. He would dive in and battle the current. And win. Races against him were moot. How could you even contemplate winning against the only ‘current defeater’ in the family?

The one good thing about the constant competition, however, was that when we were given swimming lessons, we could out swim all of the other kids. We weren’t weak swimmers.Just weak against Jerry.---------------------------------------------------Dad had purchased a small ranch in the Coaldale area. Over an hour from the Milk River spread. A logistical nightmare for one man to run. But an adventure if said man put his four eldest kids on one of the ranches for the summer.Which he did.Soon after we took possession, however, we discovered an entirely unexpected crop which our new ranch produced in abundance.

Rattlesnakes.

Big ones.

Jerry and George were hauling in the hay. Jerry on top of the stack . . . ummm . . . stacking. George tossing bales up to him. Jerry sat down on a bale, waiting for George to bring in the next stook. Just as his butt touched the bale, he heard the unmistakable, ‘tell-tail’ sound of a rattler.

Sure enough, curled there at his feet was a small rattler, poised to strike.

Without conscious thought, Jerry pitched sideways off the stack, neatly avoiding being bitten. Then, boys being boys, the two of them closed in for the kill.Sometime later, I was interrupted from my morning chore of . . . doing nothing . . . by the ring of the doorbell. Excited at the prospect of company, I raced for the door, only to discover – no one.

I opened the door for a better view. Maybe someone was . . . you know . . . pressed up tightly against the wall so they couldn’t be seen from the doorway.There, coiled neatly on the front step was a rattler. I never really noticed that it was rather . . . lifeless.

Panic first, think after. That’s my motto.

I screamed, and almost pitched backwards down the stairs.Then I heard laughter. And saw two brothers’ sunburned faces peeking around the door. “Did it scare you?”No, this is my usual slap-dash method of pitching down stairs, but thanks for thinking of me.---------------------------------------------------------------My friends wanted to walk into town and visit Charley’s.

The soda shop hang-out.

But I needed money. And neither of my parents were anywhere around. In disgust, I kicked at the dusty road and resigned myself to sitting and watching everyone else consume floats or shakes. Maybe, out of pity, offer me a sip.Sigh.Suddenly, Jerry emerged from the feed lot. The answer to my prayers. Maybe he would lend me a dime, or if I was really lucky, a quarter.Okay, so my expectations weren’t very high.I asked him. He grinned. One of two things was going to happen. Either he’d lend me money.

Or tease me.

And then lend me money.The day was mine.“You can have all the money that’s in my pocket,” he said.Uh-oh. A trick. He must be a broke as I.He reached into his pocket and pulled out . . . a handful of change.

Pennines, dimes, nickels, quarters. I felt as though I had hit the jackpot.

And he poured the glittering contents – all of it – into my waiting hands. I had enough for . . . anything . . . everything.

He just smiled. And went to start chores.-----------------------------------------------------------------

Jerry was out in the feedlot, feeding the yearling bulls.Now let me point out here that yearling bulls are just like puppies. They love to play. And chase each other. And play. The major difference is that they weigh in the neighbourhood of 1600 pounds. A bit larger than your average pooch.I had decided that I wanted to be where Jerry was. Maybe I could help.

Or get in the way.

I was equally good at both.I climbed the heavy board fence and sat on the top rail, watching. Jerry was pouring buckets of feed into the troughs and the bulls were delicately picking at it. Politely allowing everyone his own space.Not.When feeding cattle, pushing and shoving is the norm. Reaching over or under your neighbour to get that tasty morsel directly in front of him - equally common. Manners flee when a bucket of grain comes into sight. For some time, this supper brawl fascinated me. I watched as these overly-muscled and underly-intelligent ‘adolescents’ bickered and fought over their evening meal. But as with anything, watching soon became boredom and I wanted to be in there. Ummm . . . helping. I scrambled down off the fence and started towards my brother.One young ‘Four-Footed Apollo’ spotted me. Someone to play with! He bounced towards me in his finest ‘let’s play!’ mode.The invitation on his part was misunderstood on mine.All I saw was a mass of solid muscle, encased in a red hide, coming at me, death in his soft brown eyes.

I screamed.

And ran.

Which was exactly what the bull was looking for. He followed. Still bouncing. This was fun!I reached the fence just as my brother entered the fray.

With a 5-gallon pail in one hand and an aluminum grain shovel in the other, he went for my attacker.He swung the empty bucket at one side of the bull’s rump. That got his attention. Then, with the same accuracy and effectiveness, he bounced the shovel off the other side. The bull immediately forgot his erstwhile game with me and started back across the corral with Jerry in hot pursuit. Swinging the bucket, then the shovel, my brother chased the thoroughly frightened young bull, shouting with each blow, “Leave. My. Sister. Alone!”My hero.

Monday, November 12, 2012

A repost for Remembrance Day:

Erik, right and a colleague, Larry.
On the back of the picture, it says: 'I'm the one in green'.

Remembrance Day.

A day set aside to think about all of the people who have served us by laying down their lives.

And who are risking their lives today.

The ultimate sacrifice.

My thoughts are turned to the times when my husband and I have toured memorials around the world.

The military cemetery in Cambridge, England, where we had to leave because I was crying.

The Vietnam memorial in Washington. DC, when we watched a worker do a 'rubbing' for the brother of a fallen soldier, before we had to leave because I was crying.

The bunkers on the beach in Normandy, before we had to leave because I was crying.

The tiny military museum in the English countryside that we had to leave because . . . I think I'm beginning to see a pattern.

My second son served for eight years as an engineer/mine specialist in the Canadian army.

Including a peace-keeping mission in Bosnia. (When he returned home, he walked over to the lawn and just stood there. When asked why, he said, "I haven't been able to simply walk over and stand on grass for 10 months. This feels wonderful!)

I thought it particularly appropriate to include excerpts from some of his letters home . . .

Be warned, he was a soldier and had a wicked sense of humor and . . . opinions . . .

14 June

Greeting, Earth Dwellers,

The average temperature is currently hovering around +34C, which it has been all week. My secretary, Aida, was translating the radio for me and told me that these temperatures are the hottest in 68 years. Boy, are we lucky. The humidity is about 10000000% on top of that, so as you towel off from your freezing shower, the water droplets are replaced by sweat droplets as fast as you can wipe them off. I'm drinking 10 liters of water a day. 4 of them during my workout alone. Just crazy.

* * *

I forget what the date is, July something.

Hi, everybody!

I hope you all had fun at camp this last week, You'd better have. I had a lot of fun diving on the island of Vis. Even without the diving, the scenery was unbelievable. Except for the old ladies on the beach without tops on. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!! That sort of thing could scar me for life. It should be illegal. Fortunately, I spent lots of time under water. I even held an octopus. He wasn't impressed. His suction cups felt really neat, though. The laser vision burns, though. Who knew octopus could cook their own food? National Geographic had taught menothing!

NOTHING!

Calm now.

* * *

I'm doing well, since you asked. I just drove here for the first time yesterday, and I had a lot of fun. The road signs are just a vague suggestion to the motorists here, so I had to adjust my driving doctrine to suit the conditions. Basically, we speed everywhere, and pass when we want to. Even driving like a maniac, my boss, Major Thelwell, says that I'm the safest driver she's seen here. I can't wait to drive around with her at the helm. Apparently I'm in for an exciting trip.

Later this week, I get to drive to Banja Luka on Tuesday, Zgon on Wednesday (it's right beside Kluc on the map, if you're looking for it), and then we go to Sarajevo by way of Tuzla on Thursday, returning on Friday by going through Kakanj. Basically, I get to see the whole country in a week. Sarajevo will be fun, I think.

Please send pictures of the dogs. I told my assistant, Aida about them and she wants to see them. There are a lot of dogs around here, but most are the end result of decades of hasty, unplanned dog sex. There was a cute little puppy who lives in the entrance bunker at the camp in Zgon, though. He was there with all the guards who were dressed in their fighting gear, and he was inspecting our vehicle while we talked to the guards. What a little cutie. I think he was a little Doberman without a docked tail, and no doubt he gets away with murder at the guard bunker. Fortunately, everyone seems to like Canadians.

* * *

The Book of Bosnia

Chapter One

1. And it came to pass that the soldiers of the Queen did go forth into the land of Bosnia, to bring a lasting peace unto the land.

2. And the soldiers did look about them and did see many peoples throughout the land, and behold, the land was bountiful, and beautiful to be seen.

3. And it came to pass that there was a spirit of contention throughout the land, causing much death and destruction.

4. And the soldiers dwelt in a tent.

5. Now the soldiers went forth unto the people, saying:

6. What is wrong with you people?

7. Lo, these words were heard by many, and the people did listen. But the people did not speak English, so they did continue to fight, and ignored the Queen's soldiers.

8. And there was no air-conditioning to be had.

9. Now the soldiers were angry, because the people were fighting among themselves, and many people had died. Plus one leg had fallen off their foosball table, which did enrage them.

10. Therefore, the soldiers did cry out to their Lord:

11. "Oh, Lord, why hast thou forsaken this land?"

12. And the Lord did hear the cry of the soldiers, and did pity them, and did say unto them:

13. "Quit whining! For crying out loud. You sound like a bunch of little girls!"

14. And many great and glorious things did the Lord speak unto the disgruntled soldiers in this manner, until the soldier's hearts were softened and they did fall to the earth in amazement.

15. Lo, their parachutes had not opened.

16. Now the soldiers were of the mind that the Lord had played a rotten trick on them, what with the parachutes and all, so therefore the soldiers did decide to bring peace unto the land of Bosnia by circumventing Him.

12. And it came to pass that the soldiers did cry unto a false god.

18. And this false god was called Chrétien, the father of lies, the ancient enemy of all men.

19. And Chrétien did speak words unto the soldiers, but the soldiers were deceived, and did misunderstand his words, since Chrétien cannot speak any mortal language.

20. And it came to pass that the soldiers began to wander aimlessly throughout the land, and their faith did diminish, and they forsook the false god Chrétien, and did end their days as wanderers, eating berries and kittens and other nasty stuff.

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My novel, Carving Angels

My Second Novel: Kris Kringle's Magic

About the Mom

Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .